


West Wing Fantasy Season 8 Episode "All That Glitters"

by westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist



Category: The West Wing
Genre: F/M, Holidays
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-30
Updated: 2012-10-30
Packaged: 2019-05-30 18:12:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15102218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist/pseuds/westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist
Summary: Episode 18 of the Fantasy Season 8, the Santos Administration celebrates its first Thanksgiving in office.





	West Wing Fantasy Season 8 Episode "All That Glitters"

**Author's Note:**

> A copy of this work was once archived at National Library, a part of the [ West Wing Fanfiction Central](https://fanlore.org/wiki/West_Wing_Fanfiction_Central), a West Wing fanfiction archive. More information about the Open Doors approved archive move can be found in the [announcement post](http://archiveofourown.org/admin_posts/8325).

EPISODE 8.16 - Written by Mdrgrl1

ALL THAT GLITTERS

TEASER

INT. DEPUTY CHIEF OF STAFF'S OFFICE

Even the roaring of a vacuum in the hallway didn't rouse Sam from his slumber. His head was cradled on his right arm, which had long ago fallen asleep, but he was too tired to do anything about it.

"You like to scare me right out of my skin, boy!" came a booming voice from the doorway.

Sam shot up, glasses hanging from one ear.

The stout cleaning lady put a hand on her hip. "That's twice this week I've caught you sleeping in your office. Don't you have a bed at home?"

"Sorry, Charlene." He removed his glasses, then rubbed his tired eyes. "What time is it?"

"Time for you to start spending more time at home." She walked into the hallway and unplugged the vacuum, carrying the long cord back into Sam's office.

Ignoring her, Sam looked at the clock on his desk, a gift from President Bartlet. "It's 6 o'clock?"

"I'm running late today." Charlene spun the vacuum around and plugged the cord into a socket. "You should've seen the mess in Mr. Lyman's office. That man needs to hire his own cleaning service."

Sam grinned. Josh had changed quite a bit since he and Donna started dating, but one of the things that remained constant was the unkempt state of his office. Despite Margaret's attempts to clean up and her idle threats, he couldn't keep the space neat.

"Is he still around?"

Charlene lowered the arm of the vacuum and was about to turn it on. "Is who still around?"

"Josh."

"He hasn't shown up yet." Her expression changed as it slowly dawned on her. "I think you're confused. It's 6 o'clock in the morning, not the evening."

Sam raised his eyebrows. "It's 6 a.m.?"

"Yeah," Charlene said like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

He stood and looked out the window. The sun was peeking over the horizon, and there was a light frost on the lawn.

"I knew that," Sam pretended.

"Whatever you say." She shook her head. "You know, you should really sleep in a bed. That hunched over thing can't be good for your back."

"Thank you for that sage advice." He grinned.

Charlene began her five-minute sweep of the deputy chief of staff's office.

Sam adjusted his tie, tried to brush the wrinkles out of his white shirt, then slipped his glasses back on. He was glad she'd only caught him sleeping at work twice. Truth was, he'd slept there four nights in the last two weeks. He had a lot of work to do, and he had no problem getting it done in the wee hours of the morning. Besides, he didn't have anyone to go home to any more.

The vacuum noise faded as Charlene unplugged the cord and began walking towards the door. "Don't let me find out you slept here again tonight."

"Why not?"

Charlene smiled. "Tomorrow is Thanksgiving."

"Oh." Sam raised his eyebrows. "Right. Thanksgiving."

CUT TO:

INT. PRESIDENTIAL BEDROOM

The steward had already brought in a carafe of coffee while Helen was in the shower. Her husband, propped up against the headboard, sipped a cup as he read the headlines in The Post.

"We can still go to Camp David if you want," Helen said as she towel dried her hair.

The President regarded his wife. "We're going home. It's done."

"This isn't going to be a PR thing?"

He smiled. "If it is, Lou and Lester can handle it."

"The kids might like Camp David."

Matt set the paper on his lap. "Weren't you the one who convinced me to go to Houston for Thanksgiving?"

Helen didn't respond.

"We haven't been home in six months, Matt," the President mimicked his wife's voice. "Why can't we go to Houston for Thanksgiving?" 

For that, the First Lady jumped on the bed and tackled him.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!"

When she effectively pinned him down, she looked him in the eyes. "If this becomes a public relations issue, don't blame me."

He kissed her on the nose. "Never."

CUT TO:

INT. JOSH AND DONNA'S BEDROOM

A sliver of light crept through a crack in the curtains and cast a V line like a sword across Josh's face. He blinked a few times before opening his eyes. He was lying bare-chested on his side, and the blanket was draped over his hips. Josh rubbed his eyes, then ran a hand over his stubbled chin. The little grunt that escaped made Donna stir, but she didn't wake. He inched up a bit so the light wasn't directly in his eyes. Instead, it formed a perfect diagonal across her chest, illuminating a string of freckles that looked like glitter.

This had become his favorite time of day. Because of the autumnal time change, the sun rose almost exactly when it was time for him to wake up. Donna had asked him to shut the curtains completely so she wasn't blinded by the morning light, but he always left the tiniest crack for exactly this reason: he watched the day begin on her body.

Despite it being daylight, Josh referred to her freckles, at least in his own mind, as a constellation. It was difficult for him to refrain from tracing a line across the light path, connecting the little marks. He swore he could see Orion somewhere above her left breast.

There were mornings like this when he'd reflect upon the woman lying next to him—one arm across her stomach, the other flung back, palm up and fingers gently curled. He'd never been "that guy"—the one who noticed the position in which the woman next to him slept or how the light from the window looked on her skin. He was the guy who bolted out of bed as soon as he woke so he could prepare for the most important part of his day: work.

Donna moved again, startling him from his reverie. She tilted her head and made little smacking noises with her mouth. He pulled the covers a little higher on her chest, but not high enough to cover her freckled palette.

Josh ran a hand through his disheveled hair and wondered when things had changed. It was a complete paradigm shift that had happened faster than he would've thought it might. Never in a million years would he have imagined a life where staying in bed with the woman he loved would be better than going to work—where he wanted to see Donna's smile before reading the headlines in The Post. And where he'd gladly forgo his first cup of coffee in favor of a lengthy make-out session in the shower.

When Donna shifted this time, the sliver of light jumped to her neck.

Her long, pale, gorgeous neck.

It took all of his strength not to touch her. Most mornings, he'd be able to hold out for two minutes tops before kissing her chin or running a hand down her arm. But this morning...this morning was different. He was content just watching her, but his fingers twitched. Like a runner making a false start, Josh lifted his hand. He didn't want to wake her just yet, so he settled for rubbing a piece of long blonde hair between his thumb and forefinger.

He let out a long breath as he took in the sight of her. There was no part of Donna that he didn't love. A physical sensation spread through his chest not unlike the first sip of brandy on a cold winter's night. He found it a little disturbing that as he stared at Donna's slowly waking form, his eyes became glassy. Blinking back tears, Josh realized something that had been buried beneath a ton of baggage, questions and fear: He wanted to spend the rest of his life with her.

"Morning," Donna said as a slow smile spread across her face.

"Morning." Josh ran a hand over her chest, up her neck and to her cheek, mirroring the path of light. He meant to lean down and kiss her, but he couldn't take his eyes off her mouth.

"What's wrong?" Donna asked.

"Nothing." His voice was rough after a long night of sleep.

She turned on her side and rubbed his back. "You're sure?"

"Positive." He caressed her cheek with his thumb.

"Then kiss me."

Josh's face cracked into a wide grin before capturing her lips with his.

Yes, he thought. I'm going to marry Donnatella Moss.

SMASH CUT TO TITLES

ACT I

INT. JOSH AND DONNA'S APARTMENT

"Damn it!" Donna walked out of the bathroom already dressed in light gray slacks and a crisp white blouse that she hadn't fully buttoned.

"What's wrong?" Josh stopped shaving and glanced at her.

"I forgot to buy the turkey."

"Don't worry about it." He continued with a couple more strokes then began wiping his face with a steaming hot washcloth. "I'll send Margaret to the store later today."

"Yeah, like that's gonna happen," she laughed.

"Then I'll go after work."

"By the time you leave, I'm sure they'll be sold out." She turned on the blow dryer.

Josh slipped into his navy blue slacks while watching Donna in the mirror. Every time she pulled a thick section of hair with her curling brush, her shirt gaped open wide enough for him to get a glimpse of her lace-covered breast.

As Josh buttoned his dress shirt, she noticed him staring. "What are you looking at?"

He met her eyes in the mirror. "You."

Donna smiled back at him but kept drying her hair. "You're acting awfully strange today. Was there a full moon last night?"

"I don't know. Let me pull out my Farmer's Almanac," he joked. He held two ties against his shirt.

Donna pointed to the maroon and gold one. "Speaking of the Farmer's Almanac, I read that this is the first month since January when the winter stars and Orion will be on full display."

Josh's head shot up. "Orion?"

She shut off the blow dryer. "Yeah, you know, the constellation."

"Right." He had just been thinking about Orion an hour ago. He figured Donna would think he was crazy if he admitted to spotting the constellation on her chest.

When Josh made no effort to tie his tie, Donna quickly did it for him. "We should get out of the city this weekend. See the stars."

He smiled. "That would be nice."

She patted the tie in place, then whipped around to apply a quick coat of makeup. "Have you talked to Sam about Thanksgiving?"

"I asked him twice in the last 24 hours," he replied, putting a dollop of toothpaste on his brush. "He wants to be alone."

"I know he said that, but maybe he really doesn't want to be by himself. Who wants to be alone on Thanksgiving?" She pulled out her jewelry box and began digging in the two drawers.

"Sam, apparently," Josh responded around a mouthful of toothpaste.

"Please give it one more shot."

"Okay."

She kissed him on the cheek. "Thank you."

CUT TO::

INT. DEPUTY CHIEF OF STAFF'S OFFICE

"Hey! I didn't expect anyone to be here this early." Bram stepped into his boss' office. "I came in to work on the..."

Sam was focused on his computer screen.

"Sam?"

He still didn't look up.

Bram took a few steps closer. "Is something wrong?"

"They made her partner," he announced, finally looking at his assistant deputy.

It took Bram a few seconds to put the pieces together. "Lauren?"

"Yeah," Sam replied. "They made her partner at the firm."

"Is that something..." Bram fidgeted with the tip of his tie. "Did you know this was coming?"

Bram didn't know much about the demise of Sam and Lauren's relationship. And what he did know, he heard through the grapevine (translation: Otto.) He tended to change the subject or hand the ball to someone else when personal matters came up. So this conversation had the potential to make him incredibly uncomfortable.

"It's something she's wanted for a long time," Sam said, looking straight past Bram. "She'll be the first female partner in the firm's history."

"Sounds like a pretty decent gig," Bram said.

Sam looked at him and a nostalgic smile crossed his face. "Yeah. It is."

CUT TO:

INT. JOSH AND DONNA'S APARTMENT

"Have you seen my hoop earrings?" Donna dug frantically through her jewelry box.

"Your what?"

"I thought I put them in here Saturday night." She walked briskly into the bedroom, then the living room in search of the earrings. 

"Did we even get out of bed Saturday night?" Josh smirked.

"As I recall, we were on the rug next to the fireplace most of the evening," Donna commented from the other room.

"Right." His face broke into a full-dimpled smile. "That was fun."

She returned to the bathroom with a huff. "Maybe they fell off in the car."

Josh wrapped his arms around her from behind and began kissing her neck. "We *were* doing a lot of this on the way back from the State Dinner."

She stretched her neck to one side, giving him access to a mile of alabaster skin. "Yes." She grinned. "We were."

Josh picked up a gold ring out of the jewelry box with one hand while keeping one firmly planted on her stomach. "Hey, why don't you ever wear this?"

Donna rolled her eyes. "That's my high school ring, Josh."

He looked surprised. "It is?"

"Yes."

He got a gleam in his eye.

"I know what you're thinking."

"No, you don't."

"Yes, I do." She spun around to face him. "You're wondering if I was hot in high school."

Josh smirked. "Not *if* you were hot, Donna."

"You're incorrigible!" She pushed him away and resumed her search. Lifting the hand towel, she discovered the silver hoop earrings. "I found them!"

"Damn, I was hoping they'd fallen off in the car."

"Why? So you could insinuate that your seduction techniques made me lose my earrings without even noticing?"

"I wouldn't be insinuating. And I've never heard you complain about *any* of my techniques."

Donna kissed him on the lips, then walked away. "Come on, Casanova. We're going to be late."

Josh was still holding her class ring in his hand. He took one last look at it, then dropped it into his pocket. He bounced out of the room with a huge grin plastered to his face.

CUT TO:

INT. PRESS SECRETARY'S OFFICE

"Good morning, Val," Lester greeted his assistant as he shoveled past her desk. "Hold all my calls this morning. I have to finish the media plan for the troops' homecoming. Lou's going to have my head if I don't wrap it up today."

Val quickly stood, extending the phone cord to the point of nearly making the phone fall onto the floor. She motioned with one hand for him not to go into his office and pointed with the other to the receiver, which was cradled between her ear and shoulder. "Yes, sir," she said into the mouth piece. "I'll have him call you this afternoon."

Lester, ignoring her antics, opened the door and was greeted by something unexpected. "WHAT IN THE HELL?"

"I really have to go, Mr. Pike." Val closed her eyes and sighed. "My boss is here."

"Val!" Lester yelled, taking a step back. "Why are there turkeys in my office?"

"I can explain." She hung up the phone and stood next to the press secretary.

Lester blanched at the odor penetrating his office. "It smells like a farm in here!"

"Have you been to a farm?"

He gave his assistant a pointed look.

"Right," she said. "You know about the presidential turkey pardon, right?"

He nodded.

"It's customary to have the press secretary determine which bird gets pardoned," Val began. "So you get to choose the more photogenic one."

"I have to choose the hottest turkey?" Lester looked at her like she was nuts. "What happens to the other one?"

Val lowered her head. "He's somebody's Thanksgiving meal."

"This is ridiculous."

"It's tradition."

Sam whizzed by Lester's office.

"Sam! Have you heard of this?"

Sam looked up from the memo he was reading. "Heard of what?"

"The press secretary choosing which turkey is more photogenic?" Lester folded his arms.

"Yes," Sam replied. "CJ didn't care for this part of her job. As I recall, she asked the President to pardon both turkeys every year."

"I can do that?"

"I don't see why not." He shrugged. "We're in the Roosevelt Room in five."

Lester turned back to the birds, then looked at Val. "This is shaping up to be one helluva day."

CUT TO:

INT. OVAL OFFICE

President Santos took a slow sip of his second cup of coffee as Josh entered the Oval Office. He set the mug down, then tossed a copy of The Post on his desk.

"Kurt Rutland claims he won't retire until his toes curl up," Santos said with a huff.

"Considering he's lined up for double bypass surgery next month, his toes might be curling before Christmas," Josh replied.

"That doesn't seem to be slowing the man down."

"Tell me about it."

"He's been a thorn in my side since my first term in Congress. How does an educated black man like Rutland *not* support affirmative action?" Santos leaned back in his chair. "And I still don't understand how he helped pass Prop 2 in Michigan."

"Rutland's a smooth talker with deep pockets." Josh put his hands on his hips. "He makes sure every conservative voter knows who he is. It also helps that his firm's slogan is 'Striving for Equality.'"

"Yeah, because minorities have the same opportunities and privileges that whites have." The President half-laughed. "We should just forget about leveling the playing field, Josh. Let black students go to historically black colleges rather than the top research universities in the country. Forget about giving a leg up to first generation college kids." Santos raised his hands. "Give the same consideration to rich white kids whose parents can afford to send them to private schools as you do to poor Hispanic kids whose parents work three jobs just to make ends meet. That'll make every American equal."

"Right," Josh replied, equally frustrated by Kurt Rutland's crusade.

"Now he's got the Ku Klux Klan behind him."

Josh nodded. "An organization you really want helping you promote equality."

"Have someone on your staff do some digging. I want to know who's filling his pockets."

"I'll have Sam look into it."

"I have a feeling Kurt Rutland's just getting started."

"Even if he *is* 71 years old."

CUT TO:

INT. ROOSEVELT ROOM

"You've already had two," Otto complained as he and Bram fought over the last almond croissant.

Sam and Lester walked into the room and rolled their eyes.

"I had one banana nut muffin," Bram said. "It was stale."

Lou was the last to arrive at the morning meeting. "If I have to be the referee every time we have meetings with food, one of you is going to lose a limb."

While Bram slinked down into his seat, Otto snatched the croissant. It was rare that he beat Bram at anything, so he smiled at the small victory.

"Ok, folks." Lou put her hands on her hips. "We have a problem."

"Yeah, I've got turkeys in my office," Lester replied.

"I said 'we' have a problem. The thing with the turkeys is all you."

"What's wrong?" Sam asked from the far end of the table.

"Our first intern sex scandal."

Bram gulped. "I swear we just ran into each other at the bar."

"Make that two problems," Lou sighed. "Let's deal with the one concerning an elected official first, shall we?"

Bram silently thanked God that Lou had something more pressing to discuss.

She opened The Star-Tribune and read, "Democratic Congresswoman Marianne Dawes is accused of making sexual advances to a former intern during her second term in Congress. Jared Westbrook, now a paralegal in Mendota Heights, claims that Dawes made 'blatant sexual advances' throughout his four-month internship."

Sam furrowed his brow. "When is he saying this happened?"

Lou scanned the article. "Two years ago."

"And he's just coming out with it now?" Lester asked.

"Apparently." She threw the paper on the table, then took a seat. "Otto, stay on top of this today. Let me know who picks it up."

He frowned. "But I'm working on the Thanksgiving Proclamation."

"I thought you were done with that speech?" Sam asked. "You *should* be done, considering the President's delivering it at 3 o'clock this afternoon."

"I'm just polishing up the language." He looked at Lou. "You'll have a copy within the hour."

"Good," Sam said, eyeing both of them. "What's next?"

Lester leaned forward. "Can we discuss the turkeys in my office?"

"Let them..." Sam waved a hand in the air. "...play...in the Rose Garden."

Lester raised his eyebrows at Sam's suggestion, but as long as the turkeys were out of sight, he didn't really care where they ended up. 

"Moving on to the ceremony..." Lou began. "Bram, you're in charge of the Girl Scouts. Meet them at the Northwest entrance, take them on an abbreviated tour, then escort them to the Rose Garden for the pardoning."

Bram nodded.

"Otto, you'll usher the two representatives from Blakely Farms and the National Turkey Chairman to the Oval Office at 2:50 p.m. for a quick photo op, then—"

"Wait," Otto interrupted with a hand in the air. "Bram gets to entertain Girl Scouts while I have to bring the National Turkey Chairman to the Oval?"

"Don't forget the representatives from Blakely Farms," Sam added. "They're the ones who raised the turkeys."

"There's actually a National Turkey Chairman?" Bram asked.

Lester put his head in his hands. "This is like a bad dream."

"And YOU," Lou said, looking at the press secretary, "will review the tradition of turkey pardoning with the press at your 10 o'clock briefing."

"Anyone wanna trade?" Lester asked.

Bram smiled. "I'm sticking with the Girl Scouts."

"Anything else?"

"There are any number of things we should discuss," Sam began, standing and closing a folder. "But I'll deal with you all on an individual basis."

They all gathered their things and stood. As Bram and Otto opened the door, Lou stopped them. "Oh, I'm roasting a duck tomorrow. Consider yourselves invited."

"Really?" Otto beamed.

"Just bring a tasty yet non-traditional side dish."

Lester rolled his eyes. "This ought to be fun."

CUT TO:

INT. CHIEF OF STAFF'S OFFICE

Sam strolled into Josh's office with a folder under his arm. "Did you hear about Congresswoman Dawes?"

Josh nodded. "We've got a call in to her office."

Sam sat in a visitor's chair. "What do you think?"

"I think it's a flimsy story and sloppy journalism." Josh sighed. "Still, Mary Marsh is gonna be all over it."

"That's a given," Sam replied. "But come on, two e-mails and a man's word? I'm surprised The Star-Tribune even printed it."

"We're not sweating it yet." Josh sat down with a thud. "I want to hear the Congresswoman's side of the story."

"Otto's going to stay on top of it the rest of the day."

"Good," Josh replied. He shuffled a few papers on his desk. "Looks like Kurt Rutland's making headlines again."

"The black conservative who preaches equality, yet practices segregation?"

"The one and only."

"He's not dead yet?"

Josh grinned. "Fate isn't that kind."

"What's the latest?"

"Rutland picked up the Ku Klux Klan's endorsement."

Sam raised his eyebrows. "A black man is accepting support from the KKK?"

"So it seems." Josh handed his deputy the article from The Post. "He's got several other financial backers who choose to remain anonymous for fear of being labeled racist."

"Ya think?" He let out a half-laugh.

"The President wants you to do some digging." Josh leaned back. "Find out who's funding Rutland's organization."

"I'll look into it." Sam nodded. "I've also got the summary report from the Renewable Energy Conference, an extremely rough draft of the Thanksgiving Proclamation, and notes on the Pandemic Flu." Sam flipped through his folder. "The CEO of Ford Motors called to confirm the meeting next week, and I have a call in to Lawrence Bright at GM."

Josh took the proffered pages. "You did all of this between the time I left last night and 9 o'clock this morning?"

"Turns out I do some of my best work at 2 a.m." He shrugged.

"When's the last time you slept more than four hours?"

"Sleep is overrated."

Josh leaned forward. "Sam, not eating or sleeping is probably not the best way to..."

"To what?"

Josh lowered his head, then looked up at his friend. "If you want to talk about it..."

Sam took a deep breath. "She made partner."

Josh raised his eyebrows. "Lauren?"

He nodded. "The first female partner in the firm's 80-year history."

"Wow. That's...that's—"

"It's ok, Josh," he said. "She's wanted this for a long time."

"Then I guess it's good?"

"For her, yes." Sam smiled. "It's very good for her."

"Good, then." Josh shifted in his seat. "Hey, Donna wanted me to make one last-ditch effort at getting you to come over for Thanksgiving dinner tomorrow."

"Thank you, and thank HER, but I'll pass."

"She's gonna be pissed at me for not convincing you to come." Josh sighed. "You know how she gets around the holidays. She's already ordered a live Christmas tree from a place she found online, not to mention the Christmas music she makes me listen to on the way to work."

"They're already playing Christmas music?"

"I think it's a CD." Josh half-laughed.

He smiled. "I'll call her and say you made a valiant effort."

Josh grinned. "That would be helpful."

CUT TO:

INT. OVAL OFFICE

It was a rare treat for Peter and Miranda to visit their father in his office. They were too old to crawl under his desk and play hide and seek, but they were too young to fully comprehend the importance of the words Don't Touch That. So when Miranda dropped a $4,000 Swarovski Crystal sculpture, their father'd had enough.

"Ok, kids." He jumped out of his desk and began sweeping the glass off the floor with a folder. "Ronna!"

"Sorry, Dad. I was just playing." Miranda pouted.

"You broke the spaceship!" Peter exclaimed.

"It wasn't a spaceship!"

"Yes, it was."

Ronna entered the Oval Office and saw the mess on the floor. "Actually, it was an Iluliac iceberg."

The kids looked puzzled.

"Which is kind of like a spaceship," Ronna said after realizing they'd never understand the value of such a piece.

Peter shoved Miranda. "Told you."

She pushed him back. "She said *kind of* like a spaceship."

"It's time for you two to exit the building." Santos stood and Ronna took over the clean-up. "Why don't you go play in the Rose Garden?"

"Can we bring Beebo?"

The President still hadn't grown fond of the family pet, but his children loved the bearded dragon.

"Please?"

"Fine, but stay in the Rose Garden. Don't walk around the White House with that thing."

The kids clapped and went to the East Wing to retrieve their beloved pet.

CUT TO:

INT. DEPUTY CHIEF OF STAFF'S OFFICE

"You rang?"

Sam looked up from the document he was reading and smiled. "Ainsley."

"Hey, Sam."

The two had only spoken once since Lauren left DC. It was a short conversation about a memo Ainsley was working on for the Renewable Energy Conference. Lauren's name never came up.

"Have a seat."

This was usually the time when they'd banter for a few minutes, but Sam's mind was myopically focused. Besides, he didn't think he'd had enough sleep to effectively win even an argument with Ainsley Hayes.

He removed his glasses. "There was an article in The Post this morning about Kurt Rutland."

"Yes, I read it." She crossed her legs.

"Don't you know him personally?"

"As a matter of fact, I do."

"Good," Sam replied. "The President asked me to look into who's funding his organization, so I thought I'd check with you first to see if you had any information you'd be willing to share."

"Sam, just because the man is a Republican doesn't mean I know how to unlock his secrets."

"You mean there's no super secret Republican password?"

She grinned. "If I told you, it wouldn't be a secret now would it?"

He chuckled. Despite the twinge of nervousness he felt around Ainsley nowadays, she still tickled him.

"I'll see what I can find out." Ainsley stood.

Bram knocked on the door, then peeked inside. "Sam, hey." He looked at both of them. "Oh, sorry. Am I interrupting?"

"No," Ainsley replied. "I was just leaving."

"Do you need something?" Sam asked.

"I was just wondering if you're going to Lou's for Thanksgiving tomorrow."

Ainsley sighed. "If the snow storm holds off, I am going home to North Carolina for two days of stilted conversation and undercooked turkey."

"Undercooked turkey?"

"My grandfather believes all meat should be eaten rare, and his son, my father, doesn't disagree."

"Can't you get a disease from that?" Bram asked.

"Salmonella," Ainsley and Sam replied in unison. She smiled. He ducked his head.

"Right."

"I've thanked Lou for the invitation, but I'm not in a Thanksgiving sort of mood this year," Sam said.

"You don't know what you're missing." Bram's eyes lit up. "Lester's bringing his karaoke machine!"

"Wow. If ever I were on the fence about going, this certainly sealed the deal," Sam replied.

Ainsley tilted her head. "Oh, come on, Sam. I've heard you do a mean rendition of 'Mack the Knife.'"

He fidgeted in his seat. "I sang under protest as you might recall."

Ainsley smiled, remembering that night seven years ago. She and Sam had gone out for a beer after the Correspondent's Dinner, and it was karaoke night at the bar. They'd made some silly bet, which Sam lost, and his punishment was having to sing. He'd loosened his bowtie, letting it hang around his neck and did his best Bobby Darin impersonation. Ainsley remembered him being quite good.

"Yes, Sam. Yes, I do."

ACT II

INT. DEPUTY COMMUNICATION DIRECTOR'S OFFICE/COMMUNICATIONS BULLPEN

Otto had finally finished the Thanksgiving Proclamation and delivered it to the President. When he made it back to his office, a couple was seated in the visitor's chairs.

"Can I help you?"

The couple stood.

"We're the Blakelys," the woman wearing a festive Thanksgiving sweater proclaimed.

Otto creased his brow.

"The Blakelys," the man repeated. "from Blakely Farms. We're the ones who raised the turkeys."

"Oh, right." Otto forced a smile. "You're early."

He was sure they weren't supposed to arrive for another hour, but there they stood, looking more like Pilgrims than citizens of the 21st century.

"We're so proud," the woman beamed. "It's not every day you get a request from the National Turkey Federation to raise two birds for the President of the United States."

"We took real good care of them," Mr. Blakely said, putting his arm around his wife.

"I'm sure you did."

"Where are they?"

"Can we see them?"

"Uh..." Otto scratched his head. "Lester...uh, Lester Charles, the press secretary, is in charge of the turkeys. I'll find out where they are. Just...make yourselves comfortable." He stepped out of the office and sped down the hallway to find the press secretary.

"Where's Lester?"

"He just finished the afternoon briefing," Val responded. "You need something?"

"The couple from Blakely Farms is here," Otto began. "They want to see their turkeys."

"We moved them to the Rose Garden." Val turned away and answered the ringing phone.

Otto fled back to his office.

"Mr. and Mrs. Blakely, the turkeys are in the Rose Garden."

"Would it be alright if we just said goodbye?" Mrs. Blakely asked.

Otto paused. "Um...sure. Why not? Follow me."

CUT TO: 

EXT. THE ROSE GARDEN

"Why are there chickens here?" Miranda asked with her hands on her hips.

"They're not chickens, dummy. They're turkeys."

"Then why are there turkeys in Daddy's garden?"

"I don't know." Peter reached out to pet one.

It gobbled and walked away, ruffling its feathers.

Ignoring the birds, Peter set down Beebo's cage in the middle of the Rose Garden. He attempted feeding him a cricket, but the bearded dragon refused to open his mouth.

"I need to take him out." He reached into the cage.

"Mom said we can't," Miranda argued, keeping her eyes on the turkeys who were pecking at the bushes around the perimeter of the garden. 

"I don't see her around. Do you?"

His sister looked at the Secret Service agent for help, but he remained stoic. She took a step back as Peter put Beebo on the grass.

"Eat this." Once again, he attempted to feed the dragon a cricket.

"Peter?"

"Hmm?"

"The turkeys are coming closer."

When Peter looked up, he released his grasp on Beebo, and the family pet scurried toward the birds.

"Ahhh!" Miranda yelled.

The turkeys gobbled loudly and began running in circles, ruffling their feathers. Beebo opened his mouth and hissed at them. 

Peter grabbed his sister's arm. "Maybe we should get Dad?"

CUT TO:

EXT. WHITE HOUSE WALKWAY

Otto walked a few steps ahead of the Blakelys as he pointed out facts about the White House gardens. "It wasn't until the early 1900s when Ellen Wilson, Woodrow Wilson's wife, planted the first rose bush in what is now referred to as the Rose Garden."

The three came to an abrupt stop when they entered the garden and heard a cacophony of noises.

"Oh, my word!" Mrs. Blakely covered her mouth.

"What in God's name?" Her husband jumped back.

Otto rushed over to Peter and Miranda. "What are you doing?"

Peter pointed at the pet. "I don't think Beebo likes turkeys."

A Secret Service agent rushed toward them upon hearing the screeching noise. He escorted the children inside, while another agent grabbed the bearded dragon.

"What on earth just happened?" Mr. Blakely asked.

It took Otto a second to compose himself. "I think the first children wanted to...play with the turkeys. Look, no harm done."

Mrs. Blakely sidled up to her husband. "Was that some kind of lizard?"

"It's actually a bearded dragon." Otto gulped. "The First Family's pet."

Mr. Blakely furrowed his brow. "I think we've seen enough."

CUT TO:

INT. CHIEF OF STAFF'S OFFICE

Josh hung up the phone as Lou came barreling into his office.

"We have copies of the two e-mails."

It took Josh a second to realize what she was referring to. "The Congresswoman's intern?"

Lou nodded.

"How bad is it?"

She threw two sheets of paper on his desk. "Read for yourself."

He picked up the first one and read. "Happy Birthday, Jared! I'm buying you a dirty martini at Bar Rouge. Call me after 9." Josh looked up. "She wanted to buy him a drink for his birthday? That's benign."

Lou nodded and handed him the next e-mail.

"I won't take no for an answer," Josh read aloud. "Me, you, drinks at Firefly to celebrate the end of your internship." He threw the papers on his desk. "This is all he's got?"

"Just enough to make headlines for a day or two and tarnish the Congresswoman's reputation," Lou replied.

"I'll share these with the President. In the meantime, get in touch with Congresswoman Dawes. She's waiting for your call." Josh ran a hand through his hair. "Put out this fire before the Christian Right jumps all over our asses, Lou."

"It may be too late for that."

"Have you heard something?"

"Not yet," Lou said, making a note in the margin.

"Don't you find that strange?" He put his hands behind his head. "Mary Marsh would pay good money for an opportunity to take a whack at us, and this thing just fell into her lap."

"Maybe we should count our blessings."

The intercom beeped.

"Josh, there's an important call for you on line one," Margaret said. She was trying to train him on using the intercom...

"Thank you," Josh yelled.

...but had not met with much success.

He looked at Lou. "Call the Congresswoman."

She headed towards the door. "I'm all over it."

Josh picked up the phone and punched line one. "Josh Lyman."

"I hope your turkey is defrosting, young man."

Josh smiled at the familiar voice. "President Bartlet."

"Actually, it should be soaking in brine right now. Salt, sugar and 17 spices."

"I'm going to regret admitting this to you, sir, but we haven't even bought a turkey yet," he replied, still smiling.

"No?!" President Bartlet used his best exasperated tone. "How do you expect to have a moist turkey if it isn't soaking in brine for at least 24 hours?"

Josh rolled up his sleeves. "At the rate we're going, I think we'll have Butterball deli slices and mashed potatoes from a box."

"Well, we can't have that, Josh," Bartlet said. "Why don't you and Donna come up to the farm tomorrow? I'll show you how to prepare a *real* Thanksgiving meal."

"We couldn't impose on you like that, sir."

"Nonsense! My girls are spending the holiday with the in-laws, and Zoey is gallivanting around Europe. Abbey and I need people to entertain."

Josh creased his brow. "So you picked us?"

"You were our seventh choice," Bartlet joked. "But as they say, seventh time's the charm."

Josh chuckled. "I'm honored, Mr. President."

"You should be."

"I'll check with Donna."

"Excellent! I'll be expecting your call."

"Yes, sir." With that, he hung up and grinned.

Margaret entered the office. "Was that President Bartlet?"

"You answered the phone," Josh stated. "You know who it was."

"I was just checking." She lingered in the doorway. "Did he ask you to go to the Manchester farm for Thanksgiving?"

Josh put his pen down. "Were you listening by the door?"

"I couldn't help but overhear."

"Don't you have work to do?"

She nodded. "I can work and eavesdrop at the same time."

"That's great to hear." Josh leaned back with a huff. "Maybe you can fill me in on State secrets some time?"

"I'd be happy to," Margaret replied with a straight face.

He glared at her. "Leave now."

"Right."

CUT TO:

INT. OVAL OFFICE

"We're raising little devils," Helen announced as she entered the Oval Office.

Santos looked up from the papers he was signing. "They're not so little any more."

"I told them Beebo's not coming with us to Houston." She greeted her husband with a kiss on the cheek.

"How'd they react?"

"Peter threw a mild fit, but Miranda was a little more understanding."

The President raised his brow. "A mild fit?"

"Bad choice of words." She held up a hand. "He was just a little upset that he couldn't bring Beebo home to show his friends."

Santos sighed with relief.

Although Peter still displayed signs of Tourette's, he was an active, respectful and normal pre-teen. His mother had loosened the ties that bound him close to her side, and with that freedom alone, Peter acted like every pre-pubescent boy: sports were cool and girls were becoming a little more interesting.

The President put his pen down. "Apparently the lizard made quite a scene in the Rose Garden."

"So I heard," Helen sighed. "I need a vacation."

The President took his wife's hand. "I know Houston's not really a vacation, but at least we'll be home for a couple days."

"True." She smiled.

Otto knocked on the door. "Mr. President?"

"Come in, Otto." He released Helen's hand, then stood.

"I'd like you to meet Betty and Bill Blakely from Blakely Farms and Oscar Phillips, the National Turkey Federation Chairman," Otto announced.

The President and First Lady shook each of their hands.

"Thank you for coming," Santos said.

A staff photographer arranged the group for a picture as the Turkey Chairman spoke. "These birds were raised with extra special care, Mr. President," he began. "They received a regular diet of corn and soybean meal and were provided with a continuous supply of filtered water."

"That's more than I can say of my own family," the President joked.

Helen elbowed him in the ribs.

The photographer took several shots, and then left the office.

"Let's get the show on the road, shall we?"

CUT TO:

INT. CHIEF OF STAFF'S OFFICE

After tapping lightly on the door, Donna walked in Josh's office. "I heard you received an important call."

Josh's head shot up. "Hey." There were few things more arousing than the sound of Donna's voice, even if it was a simple sentence about work.

She smiled. "Hi."

"How'd you know about that call?"

She walked behind him, leaned over the back of his chair and placed her palms on his chest. "The walls have ears."

"Margaret?" Josh covered her hands with his.

She kissed his temple. "Yeah."

"Is nothing sacred?" He removed her arms from around his body but kept hold of her hands.

"Not when it involves Margaret." Donna moved in front of him, half-sitting on his desk.

"So what do you think?" Josh asked, pulling his chair closer and effectively trapping her between his legs. "You wanna spend Thanksgiving with the President and Mrs. Bartlet?"

"Do you?"

He ran his hands up and down her thighs. "Wasn't it just a few years ago when we'd try everything in our power *not* to spend our time off with him?"

"Admit it. You miss his trivia," she said.

"Don't tell him that." He picked up one of Donna's hands and placed a kiss on her knuckles.

"I think it would be nice." She laced their fingers together. "Besides, we have absolutely nothing at home that would lead to us cooking a proper Thanksgiving meal."

He grinned. "That's certainly true."

"Then it's settled." She untangled their hands and cupped his face. "I'll make flight arrangements."

"I'll call him with the news." Josh leaned up and kissed her.

Margaret knocked, then poked her head in. "Bram's here with the Girl Scouts. They're fawning all over him, especially the troop leader."

Josh let his head fall to Donna's lap and sighed. "I'll be right there."

Donna ran her hands through his already tousled hair, then lifted his head. "You've got a lot to do before we leave."

"Don't remind me."

They both stood. Before Josh walked out, he gave his girlfriend one last lingering kiss. "I'll meet you at home as soon as I'm done."

"Save up your energy."

"Why?" He walked towards the door.

"We're not going to be able to have sex for two days, so I think we should make tonight worthwhile."

Josh smirked. "I love the way you think."

ACT III

THANKSGIVING DAY

MANCHESTER, NH—BARTLET FARM

Josh and Donna pulled up to the farm just after 11 a.m., where they were promptly greeted by a black Labrador Retriever.

"Maynard!" President Bartlet whistled. "Get over here!"

"The President has a dog?" Josh asked before he stepped out of the car.

The dog ran back to his master and placed his front paws on the President's thighs. Bartlet rubbed behind his ears, then proceeded to greet Josh and Donna. "Little bit of a flight delay?"

"Hi, Mr. President." Donna hugged him. "Something about the landing gear."

He smiled. "As I recall, that happened to me a few years back."

"Happy Thanksgiving, Mr. President." Josh shook his hand, but Bartlet pulled him into a quick embrace.

"You, too, Josh. Thank you both for coming."

"Who's this?" Donna asked, petting the hyperactive dog.

"This is Maynard." He helped Josh with the two bags. "I'd gotten used to people obeying my every command, so I decided when Abbey didn't fall for that, I'd find someone who would."

Josh grinned. "What kind of name is Maynard?"

The President looked up at him. "Does the name John Maynard Keynes ring a bell, Josh?"

"The economist?"

"You have to ask?"

They began walking toward the house.

"He was one of the most influential economists of the 20th century," Donna replied.

Bartlet smiled proudly. "I've always liked you more than him."

Josh put his hand at the small of her back. "I don't think you're alone in that, Mr. President."

They stepped into the large house and placed the bags near the stairwell.

"Abbey? Our guests are here," Bartlet bellowed. He turned to them. "She better not be messing with my bird."

CUT TO:

EXT. – PITT STREET NORTH, ALEXANDRIA, VA

"I'm stating for the record: I don't think this is a good idea." Otto folded his arms.

"You've said that at least three times. I get it." Bram made a right turn. "Believe me, he's going to eventually thank us."

"What if he doesn't?"

"He will."

"But what if he—"

"Trust me," Bram interrupted. "No one really wants to be alone on Thanksgiving Day." He parked the car under a large tree. "Go get him."

"Me?" Otto screeched.

"Fine. We'll both go."

After knocking four times, they finally heard a familiar voice.

"Who is it?"

"It's us," Bram replied, shivering in the cold. "Open up."

The door opened, and they were greeted by a seemingly disgruntled and confused man.

"What in God's name are you two doing here?"

Bram grabbed his arm. "I hate to do this, Sam, but you're coming with us."

CUT TO:

INT. SANTOS KITCHEN, HOUSTON

"We got another call." Helen sighed.

The President popped a pecan into his mouth. "Who was it this time?"

"Dottie Hill. Her sister and her five kids were stuck at the entrance to the neighborhood for nearly two hours." She wiped her brow. "Does the Secret Service have to question everyone, including children?"

He shrugged. "It's standard procedure."

"Well, we should've notified the neighbors that the President and his burly agents were coming to town." Helen tied an apron around her neck. "They all hate us now."

"Dottie's a Republican," he said, grabbing a handful of pecans. "She hated us long before today."

Helen watched her husband shove all of them into his mouth. "That's it. Take the kids outside or something. I've got baking to do."

"Pecan pie?"

"How'd you guess?"

He kissed her on the forehead, then made his way into the living room. "Who's up for some football?"

Peter jumped to his feet. "I am!"

"Bad things happen when you play football," Miranda said.

The President chuckled. "I promise not to break anyone's arm today."

"Let's go!"

 

CUT TO: 

INT. BARTLET HOME, MANCHESTER

"You see, Josh, what you have to do is cook the stuffing before you put it in the turkey," Bartlet said as he added the andouille sausage to a pot on the stove. "That way no one gets sick."

Josh gave Donna the eye. She smiled from her place at the kitchen table with Abbey, where she'd insisted upon helping peel the potatoes.

"Am I supposed to chop this?" Josh looked at an onion on the counter.

"No, Josh, you just place the whole thing in the pot." The President rolled his eyes. "At the rate you're going, we won't eat until Sunday." He looked at Donna. "Has he ever chopped an onion?"

"I don't think so." She laughed.

"Has he ever prepared a meal from scratch?" Abbey asked.

"I'm standing right here," Josh said.

"Not that I recall," Donna replied, ignoring her boyfriend.

"We're going to make a man out of you yet, Josh." The President showed him how to properly chop the onion.

Josh smirked. "If I learn how to cook, that makes me more of a man?"

"Damn right," Abbey responded.

"Do you know what Mark Twain said of Thanksgiving Day?" Bartlet asked.

"Here we go," Josh muttered under his breath.

"I heard that."

"Mark Twain said—"

"Not this again, Jed," Abbey interrupted.

"Mark Twain said," Bartlet continued, "that Thanksgiving originated in New England two or three centuries ago when those people recognized that they really had something to be thankful for -annually, not more often. They figured if they could last a year without being exterminated by the Indians, they had something to be thankful for. So, Thanksgiving Day became a habit for the reason that in the course of time, as the years drifted on, it was perceived that the exterminating had ceased to be mutual and was all on the white man's side, consequently on the Lord's side; hence it was proper to thank the Lord for it and extend the usual annual compliments."

"You're still an oratorical snob," Abbey commented.

Donna smiled. "I think it's a nice story."

"That racial segregation and greedy white people are the basis for Thanksgiving?" Josh asked with a huff. He went back to chopping, rather massacring, the onion. With every stroke he took, the onion slipped a little more. Layers began coming off, and his cuts were so thick and imprecise that it looked like chunks rather than a finely diced onion.

"I tend to look at it in a much broader view," Bartlet said.

"Then that story was...?"

"Just for show."

"Right," Josh said. "Here are your onion...pieces."

"Good God, Josh! What happened?"

"At least he still has his fingers. You do still have all your fingers, right?" Donna grabbed his hand and examined it for any abrasions. Once she was satisfied that Josh was injury free, she kept hold of his hand and laced their fingers together.

Josh squeezed her hand and grinned.

"Ok, we're going to let this simmer." Bartlet covered the pot. "Why don't you and I take a walk?"

"Us?" Josh gulped.

"It'll be like old times." He patted the younger man on the back.

"Did we take walks in old times?"

Bartlet narrowed his eyes. "Walk with me, Joshua."

"Yes, sir." He released Donna's hand. "If we're not back in 20 minutes, rescue me."

"You're on your own, honey," Donna said.

"I'm going to remember this."

"May-nard!" The President called. The dog ran to the door. "Let's go, boy. Josh, you too!"

CUT TO:

INT. BRAM'S CAR/LOU'S TOWNHOUSE

"Where are you taking me?" Sam asked from the back seat.

"To a place where you'll forget every care in the world after your first two drinks," Bram said.

Otto turned around. "I just want you to know this was his idea."

"You're lucky I'm not firing you," Sam stated, looking at his assistant deputy. "...yet."

They pulled up to Lou's townhouse and got out of the car.

"Where are we?" Sam asked.

They walked up the sidewalk, then into the house.

"We're here!" Bram called.

"I thought you weren't coming?" Lou said, wiping her hands on a rag.

"He had a change of heart." Bram put his arm around Sam's shoulders. "Let's get you a cocktail."

"I'm still pissed at you," Sam replied.

"Lester, get this man a drink!"

The area just off the kitchen looked like a well-stocked bar. They had every kind of alcohol imaginable. Lester claimed he was the bartender, and only he could mix drinks that day.

"Something smells good," Otto commented as he walked into the kitchen.

"It's the duck," Lou said, opening the oven.

"It's really not," Lester replied, pouring a generous amount of peppermint schnapps into the cocktail shaker. "It's my butternut squash and rutabaga medley."

"You're not watching the game?" Bram turned on the television.

"We're busy cooking..."

"...and getting drunk!" Lou and Lester laughed.

Sam took the first sip of Lester's alcoholic concoction. "Wow. This is strong."

Lester leaned closer. "You're gonna need it, man."

CUT TO:

INT. SANTOS RESIDENCE

Helen had four pies still in the oven and three cooling on the table. She was busy stirring a large pot of gravy with one hand and dropping cranberries into the blender with the other. One turkey was baking in the bottom oven, and a smaller one was marinating in the refrigerator. For the first time since her husband had taken office, she wished she had the enormous cooking staff on hand.

"Mrs. Santos?" an agent called from the other end of the kitchen.

"Yes?" She yelled over the whirring of the blender.

The agent approached her with a pie in each hand. "These came for your family."

The First Lady turned off the blender. "What happened to them, Frank?"

"We had to check them for foul play," he said without expression.

She looked up at him. "So you *destroyed* the pies?"

"Sorry, ma'am. Just following standard procedure." He put the pies on the counter and left.

Santos walked in to the kitchen. "What happened in here?"

Helen glared at him. "Your goons desecrated the pies that our neighbors baked for us."

He opened the card next to the cherry one. "Good thing they did." The President smirked. "This one is from Dottie Hill."

At that point, Helen burst into a fit of laughter. "Ah, that's...that's...fitting."

He grabbed a paper towel to wipe the sweat off his forehead after playing football with the kids. "They ran me ragged."

She went back to the stove. "It's good exercise."

He stopped in the middle of the room when he realized the sheer amount of food in their kitchen. "Are you cooking for the Navy?"

She scooped the cranberry mixture into a baking dish. "I felt bad for the agents."

"The ones you just referred to as my 'goons?'"

She shrugged. "It's Thanksgiving, and they're here protecting you...us...when they should be with their own families."

"You've got a soft spot for these burly men, don't you?" He tickled her side.

She pulled away and tried hiding her smile. "It's the female agents I like, but I can't invite only them. That would be sexist."

He smiled. "So you're cooking Thanksgiving dinner for 30?"

The oven buzzer went off.

Helen returned his smile. "It appears so."

CUT TO:

INT. LOU'S TOWNHOUSE

By halftime of the Dallas/Detroit game, the gang at Lou's was nicely liquored up. Bram had taken over as bartender despite Lester's protests, but the crowd was satisfied with his mixing abilities.

"Hey, what ever happened to that hot yet suspicious woman in your office?" Lester asked.

"Sierra?"

"The hooker," Otto provided.

"She wasn't a hooker," Bram corrected. "She was dressed up for a skit."

Lester eyed Otto. "She looked like a hooker."

Otto laughed.

"She'd just come back from rehearsal for the follies," Bram explained. "She was in that skit from Chicago...what's it called?"

"Cell Block Tango," Lou provided from the kitchen.

"I'm just saying." Lester shrugged. "She looked like a hooker."

"Trust me when I say she's not." Bram got defensive. "Sierra works for Senator Pallard. She's a well-respected political operative. We've gone out a couple of times and had a really good time."

"I know that look." Otto raised his eyebrows. "You've got a thing for her. You're going to ask her out again!"

Sam entered the room. "Who's Bram asking out?"

"The hooker," Otto and Lester replied in unison.

Laughter filled the room until the familiar sound of a television newsbreak brought their attention to the screen. Bram turned up the volume.

"In continuing coverage of allegations that Congresswoman Dawes from Minnesota made sexual advances to a male intern, we bring you the latest report," the newswoman said.

The pictures on the screen were of the Congresswoman walking into a house with a band of reporters and photographers surrounding her. She held up a hand and made it inside without commenting.

"The former intern, Jared Westbrook of Mendota Heights, provided two e-mails to the press, indicating that the Congresswoman wanted to socialize in local DC bars with him after his 21st birthday," the voiceover continued. "There has been no further evidence of sexual misconduct, but stay tuned to ABC News for regular updates."

Lester shook his head. "This is pathetic."

"She can't even go to Thanksgiving dinner without being swarmed by the press," Sam commented.

When Bram turned the volume down, they heard a light knock on the door.

"You expecting anyone else?" Lester asked.

"No." Lou opened the front door. "Hey! I thought you were going home for Thanksgiving?"

"Slight change of plans."

Sam peeked around the corner. When he saw the woman standing at the door, his mouth hung open. "Ainsley."

CUT TO:

EXT. BARTLET FARM

Josh and the former President made their way past the barn and into an open pasture. Most of the trees had started losing their leaves already, but it was still beautiful.

"How are the presidential library plans coming along?" Josh asked.

"Slowly but surely. Debbie's been a big help," Bartlet replied. "I have a meeting with the president of Dartmouth next week."

"Is that your first choice?"

"It's a beautiful place." He threw a stick for Maynard. "But I'm looking at three more sites in early December."

They walked in silence for a couple of minutes each taking in the scenery.

"Any new information on Congresswoman Dawes?" Bartlet asked.

"Nothing besides the two less-than-incriminating e-mails," Josh replied.

"Yeah, I saw that on the news." Bartlet threw the stick again, which Maynard quickly fetched. "Is that all the kid's got?"

"Looks like it." Josh zipped his coat. "I just hope the House Ethics Committee doesn't have to get involved."

"This thing'll be over long before that," Bartlet commented.

"What makes you say that?"

"I went to Notre Dame with the Congresswoman's father," he said, throwing the stick again. "And I've known Marianne since she was a child. They're a good family, Josh. If she claims she's innocent, I trust that."

Josh grinned at him. "I hope you're right."

"I am," he replied with confidence.

"Don't you find it strange that the Christian Right hasn't pounced on this?" Josh shoved his hands in his pockets.

"Do I find it strange?"

"Yeah. This is the kind of thing Mary Marsh lives for—pulling out her moral compass and calling us sex-crazed Democrats."

"They probably realize there's no merit to the story."

"I don't know." Josh shook his head. "It just feels odd."

Maynard stopped directly in front of Josh and dropped the stick at his feet. Josh stared at the dog, and then at the stick.

The President smiled. "He wants you to throw it."

Josh leaned over, picked up the stick and tossed it as far as he could. He wiped the slobber on his jeans.

"You ever own a dog, Josh?"

"When I was little." He nodded. "We had this mutt. Joannie and I would throw tennis balls, trying to make the dog fetch, but he'd get the ball, then run away."

"Ah, yes." Bartlet chuckled. "Still, they're good company."

Maynard dropped the stick again. Josh threw it into the woods.

"When I'm away for the night, Maynard makes Abbey feel safe."

"Yeah?" Josh toyed with the ring he'd placed in his pocket before they left that morning.

"Dogs are good like that."

Maynard brought the stick back, but no one tossed it this time. "Take a rest, boy."

They came upon a pond where the dog took a healthy drink of water.

"So," Bartlet said. "How are things with Donna?"

Josh's head shot up. "Good. Things are good."

"Just good?" He raised his eyebrows.

Josh's dimples surfaced. "Amazing, actually."

The President tilted his head. "I've never seen you glow like this."

"I'm glowing?"

"There's no other word for it," Bartlet observed.

"I'm going to ask her to marry me," he blurted out before his brain caught up with his mouth.

"Josh!" Shock registered on the President's face. "What excellent news!"

"That's the first time I've said it out loud." He couldn't wipe the smile off his face.

"Congratulations, son." Bartlet put his hand over his heart.

"Thank you."

He shook Josh's hand and patted his back. "She's a wonderful woman."

"She is," he agreed. "Too good for me."

"I won't argue with that," Bartlet joked.

They started walking back toward the house. Josh pulled out the ring he'd been flipping over in his pocket.

"You're going to propose with your class ring?"

"It's Donna's." He laughed. "I'm carrying it with me in case I have a chance to sneak into a jewelry store."

"To get them to replace the—what is that, sapphire—with a diamond?"

"No, sir." He grinned. "I don't know her ring size."

"Ah," the President replied. "My guess is you don't know all that much about engagement rings either."

"What makes you say that?"

"Do you know what the four C's are?" Bartlet asked in that general snobby tone he liked to take when he thought he was the expert on something.

"It's not reading, writing and arithmetic?" Josh asked with a smirk.

"I'm gonna let that slide, young man." He handed the ring back to Josh. "Cut, color, clarity and carat weight."

"Right."

"Do you know what a 'D' is?"

The smirk had yet to fade. "Are we talking bra size now?"

Ignoring him, the President answered his own question. "A D is perfectly colorless. It has no flaws and is the rarest of diamonds."

"I guess I have quite a bit of research ahead of me."

"Nonsense, Josh." Bartlet patted him on the back. "I'll call my friend in Manchester tomorrow, and we'll take a drive down to his shop."

Josh raised his eyebrows. "How will you explain that to the women?"

"I'll create a diversion." They walked up the three steps to the doorway.

"This doesn't sound like a very solid plan."

The President stepped inside with a huge smile plastered to his face. "Don't worry. I'm blessed with stealth."

CUT TO:

INT. LOU'S TOWNHOUSE

"I'm sorry for showing up without calling first," Ainsley said. "But I just got off the phone with an old friend."

Lou escorted Ainsley inside. She stopped behind the sofa and looked at the men in the living room, then turned her attention to Sam. "You asked me to do some digging into who's funding Kurt Rutland's organization."

"Did you discover something?" Sam asked.

"I did."

He took a step closer. "Well?"

All eyes were on Ainsley.

"There's a reason why we haven't heard a peep out of the Christian League, condemning Congresswoman Dawes' supposed sexual misconduct," she began. "They've donated $500,000 to Rutland's American Civil Rights Initiative."

"Half a million?" Sam raised his eyebrows.

"To be fair, the Christian League donated $100,000. The rest of the money was fronted by Mary Marsh." Ainsley smiled as if she'd just solved a massive puzzle.

Sam was taken aback. "Mary Marsh?"

She nodded.

"Mary Marsh put up her own money to help fund Rutland's organization?"

"Yes."

Sam put his hands on his hips. "I'll be damned."

"Why's this a big deal?" Bram asked from his spot on the sofa.

"The financial donors of Rutland's organization wanted to remain anonymous for fear that it would expose them to charges of racism," Lou provided.

"Not to mention linking them indirectly to the Ku Klux Klan," Sam added.

"So you're saying that Mary Marsh is racist?" Bram asked.

Sam nodded. "A fact we've known for a long time, but this makes it crystal clear."

"Which brings us to a seemingly disconnected matter." Lou crossed her arms.

Ainsley turned to face her. "Congresswoman Dawes and the apparent sex scandal."

"Wait a second." Otto creased his brow. "You lost me."

Sam stood in front of the fireplace, hands on his hips. "The reason why the Christian Right, more specifically Mary Marsh, hasn't come out against the Democratic Congresswoman's alleged sexual behavior is because they don't want to be in the spotlight."

Ainsley nodded. "They knew we were on Rutland's trail, trying to hunt down his financial supporters."

"So Mary Marsh and her racist friends were content to let the thing with Congresswoman Dawes slide even though her skin was crawling at the thought of not making remarks about a Democrat accused of sexual misconduct," Lou added.

"Josh wondered why Marsh hadn't pulled out her moral compass," Lester chimed in. "Now we know."

Sam grinned. "Now we know."

ACT IV

FRIDAY MORNING

INT. GUEST ROOM, BARTLET HOME

It was Donna who was awakened by the sun the next morning, and it was Josh who'd asked her to close the blinds the night before. She rolled closer to him, pulling the quilt higher over both of their bodies. The room was cold, but she figured it would warm up nicely as the sun rose higher in the eastern sky.

Donna threw an arm over his chest as she snuggled closer against his warm body.

With his eyes still shut, Josh reached his right hand across his body, settling it on top of her head. "Morning."

"Good morning," she said.

He rubbed her head with short comforting strokes almost sending her back to sleep.

"It's cold," Josh said in his low morning voice.

"It is." She threw her right leg over his and hoisted herself further onto his chest.

He wrapped her in his arms as if she were a caterpillar resting in its cocoon. "Sleep well?"

"Really well," Donna replied. "You?"

"Yeah." He rubbed small circles on her back.

It didn't matter that they'd been together for a full year; being this close to Josh still had that dizzying effect on her. There were mornings when she woke up and had to pinch herself to see if she was dreaming. And after the hell they went through over Colin Ayers' exhibit and Josh's strength and understanding about her need to see the photographs, there was no such thing as being too close to him.

Donna tucked her hand under his long-sleeved gray shirt and ran her fingernails up and down his side. She could tell by the way he shifted his hips that he was getting turned on by her simple touch. Flattening her hand against his warm skin, she rubbed his chest and his belly with a feather light touch.

"Are you trying to seduce me in the President's guest bedroom?"

She didn't have to look at his face to know he was grinning.

"No," she said in all seriousness. "I just like the way you feel."

Josh's hips bucked involuntarily.

She tugged at the hem of his shirt and pulled it far enough up to reveal his chest. Lowering her head, Donna began placing tiny kisses across his abdomen.

"Do I have to remind you that President Bartlet is two doors down?" Josh asked after a low moan.

"Nope."

"Donna," he pleaded, pulling away from her slightly. "We can't, you know, in here."

She pouted. "Why not?"

"We're at *the President's* house!"

"He's not the President any more." Donna shrugged. "He's a husband, father and grandfather."

"That's even worse," Josh replied.

She looked up at him. "How is that worse?"

Josh pulled his shirt back down, covering his torso completely. "It just is."

"I'm not suggesting we have sex," Donna said, propping herself up on her elbow and tossing her hair over her shoulder.

He smirked. "You could've fooled me."

"But I wouldn't mind kissing you a little more." She leaned down and captured his lips with hers.

He laughed against her mouth. "What's gotten into you?"

"I have no idea." She smiled.

Josh couldn't resist the woman next to him no matter how hard he tried. And seeing the sheer happiness on her face made him want her more. He deepened the kiss, causing Donna to moan.

"Is this so bad?" she asked between kisses.

"I never said it was bad." He trailed his fingertips down her arm.

"Yet you wanted me to stop." She moved one hand to his stubbled cheek and the other to the back of his head.

He turned on his side and threw a leg over both of hers. "A terrible mistake on my part."

Donna giggled. "Was it?"

"Have I ever been able to resist you?" He sucked on the spot where her neck and chest met.

She threw her head back, giving him full access. "Not that I recall."

"Why would this time be any different?" He took a tiny bit of skin between his teeth, then released it, licking and sucking the same spot.

"Fair point." Donna rolled over, forcing Josh flat on his back. Without breaking their kiss, she straddled him and began once again rolling his shirt up his body.

They made out for close to an hour, keeping their clothes partially on. Donna's fascination with her boyfriend's chest never subsided, so she decided to remove his shirt entirely. Not to be outdone, Josh unbuttoned Donna's pajama top, revealing her perky breasts while keeping the top on. It was the first time Donna could remember when they'd been this intimate yet didn't have sex. She felt like a giddy and somewhat innocent schoolgirl.

It wasn't until the smell of breakfast permeated the air when they finally stopped kissing and touching.

"Something smells good," Josh said as he held Donna close to his chest.

"We should probably make our way down." She lightly rubbed the red marks she'd created with her mouth on his left nipple.

"You wanna shower first?"

Donna nodded, then sat up. "I'll meet you downstairs."

He kissed her one last time before bounding out of bed. "Don't take too long."

"Promise."

CUT TO:

INT. SANTOS RESIDENCE

President Santos rolled over in bed. "I can't remember the last time I slept past 8 o'clock."

"It's been at least two years." His wife hooked an arm around his waist.

"I like it."

She grinned against his chest. "Me, too."

The President's body man knocked on the bedroom door.

"I knew it was too good to be true," Santos whispered to his wife. "Who is it?"

"It's Andy, sir. You have a phone call."

The President sat up with a grunt. "Come in."

"It's Josh." Andy handed him the phone.

"You woke me from my slumber, Josh. This had better be good."

"It's 8:30 in the morning, sir!"

"On the day after Thanksgiving," the President replied. "I think the tryptophan really kicked in after about my fifth piece of turkey."

Helen kissed him on the cheek, then got out of bed.

"Did Lou tell you about Mary Marsh?" Josh asked.

He nodded. "Yeah. That's something, isn't it?"

"I knew there was a reason she hadn't come out against the sex scandal," Josh said. "The question is, what do we want to do with this information?"

"You're asking if we should exploit her?"

"That's exactly what I'm asking."

The President crawled out of bed with the phone pressed to his ear. "I think the public has a right to know that this seemingly righteous Christian is backing a racist organization."

"I could have Lester leak it to a reporter," Josh offered.

"You think that's our best course of action?"

"It's either that or we make a public statement."

Santos scratched his head. "Lester leaking it sounds good."

"I'll give him a call right away, sir."

"But if *we*know about Mary Marsh's financial contribution to Rutland's organization, don't you think others do, too?"

"It's a possibility," Josh responded.

"Wait a couple hours before giving this to Lester," Santos said. "We might not even have to get involved."

"Yes, sir."

Santos walked into the bathroom. "Did you have a good Thanksgiving, Josh?"

"I did." Josh paused for a beat. "I might have some news for you when I get back."

"This wouldn't have anything to do with Donna, now would it?" He grinned.

Over the past year, the President and Josh had had a handful of conversations about Josh's personal life. There was no question in Santos' mind that his chief of staff was a happier, calmer person since things had shifted in Josh and Donna's relationship. 

"It might."

He chuckled. "I don't have to be in the same room with you to know you're smiling, Josh."

"I am, sir." There was a short pause, and the President wondered if Josh was looking at Donna as they spoke. "She does that to me."

"Good." Santos watched his wife take off her pajamas and get into the shower. "Well, I'll hear the news when you get back. Enjoy the rest of your time off."

"You, too, Mr. President."

CUT TO:

INT. BARTLET HOME

They'd all complained the night before that they were too stuffed to eat for days. The President's turkey was every bit as delicious as he'd claimed it would be, and Mrs. Bartlet's cranberry crisp was to die for. Josh'd had three helpings. However, when the President cooked banana fritters the next morning, no one could resist.

"How'd you sleep?" He flipped a fritter.

"Very well, thank you, sir." Josh rubbed his stomach. "It smells good in here."

"Banana fritters," the President said. "My other specialty."

Josh smirked. "You're pulling out all the stops."

Bartlet leaned over and said in a conspiratorial whisper, "You've gotta have your strength today for the ring shopping."

Josh's swallowed hard. "I thought you were just kidding about that?"

"I've already made a call." He placed a fritter onto a plate. "Ah, Donna. Perfect timing! Breakfast is served."

Donna took the plate. "Thank you, sir."

"Morning," Josh greeted her with a grin.

"Morning, Josh." She hesitated a second, then leaned over and kissed him on the side of the mouth.

Josh blushed.

Although the President knew they were a couple, they'd never done anything even remotely romantic in front of him. When he looked up at Bartlet, he had a wide grin on his face.

"You smell nice," Josh whispered.

"Must be the presidential soap," Donna commented.

"Good morning, everyone." Abbey walked in with the newspaper tucked under her arm.

Josh quickly stood at attention.

"Hi, ma'am."

She threw the paper on the counter. "Did you two sleep well?"

Josh nodded vigorously.

"We did, thank you, ma'am," Donna replied.

"This one is for you, my dear." Bartlet handed his wife a fritter.

"Thank you." Abbey sat down, then turned her attention to Josh. "My husband tells me that Mary Marsh is Ms. Moneybags."

"It sure looks that way," Josh said.

"So she's a major contributor to Kurt Rutland's organization?"

"Racist organization," the President added.

"Now we know why she hasn't commented on Congresswoman Dawes' alleged sex scandal," Josh stated.

"My guess is that Mary Marsh is going to remain silent about pretty much everything the Democratic Party does for the foreseeable future." Bartlet handed Josh a plate, then sat at the table with the others.

"It'll make my life a whole lot easier," Josh said, taking his first bite of the fritter. "Mmm. This is delicious."

"He makes a mean banana fritter," Abbey said, giving her husband's arm a squeeze.

"He certainly does." Donna smiled.

The President wiped his mouth with a napkin. "We have a tradition the day after Thanksgiving..."

"Here we go again." Abbey removed her hand from his arm.

He eyed her. "We have a tradition..."

"...the day after Thanksgiving," Abbey provided, rolling her hand in the air as if to say 'get on with it.'

Bartlet puffed out his chest. "We have a tradition the day after Thanksgiving where my family and I drive into town to tag our Christmas tree. Sometimes we'll hit up two or three farms before deciding on the perfect one. I have no intention of breaking tradition this year. Besides, I know all there is to know about Christmas trees." He wiped his mouth with a napkin. "Did you know that the tradition of the Christmas tree began more than 1,000 years ago in Germany?"

They rolled their eyes.

"St. Boniface brought Christianity to the Germans," Bartlet continued. "And when he saw a group of pagans worshiping an oak tree, he cut the tree down and, lo and behold, a young fir tree sprung up from the roots of the oak. St. Boniface took this as a sign of the Christian faith, but it wasn't until the 16th century when Christmas trees were brought indoors to celebrate the holiday."

Abbey looked at Josh, who was squeezing Donna's leg under the table to keep from groaning at the President's inane trivia.

"That's very interesting, sir," Donna said with a cough.

He smiled proudly. "So who wants to join me in tagging a tree on this fine morning?"

They all ducked their heads.

"Josh! So good of you to volunteer." He had a gleam in his eye. "I have quite a day in store for you."

CUT TO:

INT. LOU'S TOWNHOUSE

"I dreamed that you'd all gone home last night." Lou stumbled into the living room and rubbed her forehead.

"No such luck," Sam replied from his spot on the sofa. "How many of those peppermint things did I drink?"

"Not half as many as I did." She made sure her pajama pants were tied.

Bram let out a loud snore in the armchair next to the fireplace.

Lou kicked him. "Hey! Stop snoring. It's time to get up."

"Huh?" Bram blinked and took in his surroundings. "Where am I?"

Lester adjusted the pillow under his head. "I might've had one too many last night."

Lou sniffed. "What's that smell?"

"Good morning, everyone!" Ainsley greeted from the kitchen. "I hope you don't mind, Lou, but I found some eggs and sausage in the fridge, so I thought I'd prepare a delectable breakfast since you so kindly cooked dinner for us last night."

Lou raised her eyebrows. "Go for it, Paula Dean."

"How is everyone feeling?" Ainsley asked.

The men grunted. Lou reached for her glasses on the side table, then kicked Sam's legs off the sofa so she could sit.

"Where's Otto?" Bram asked.

"Uh, he's..." Lou busied herself with cleaning her lenses with her pajama shirt sleeve.

"I'm here." Otto walked into the living room from the back of the house.

"Where'd you sleep?" Lester asked.

He hooked a thumb over his shoulder. "Spare bedroom. Why?"

Lester made eye contact with Bram and chuckled. "No reason."

"Where's my shirt?" Bram stood. "Whoa, standing wasn't the greatest idea."

"It's in here," Ainsley called.

"What's it doing in the kitchen?"

"I think that was the staging area for the karaoke," Sam said.

"You took it off before singing 'Macho Man,'" Otto added.

"I sang 'Macho Man?'"

"Not very well, but you get an A for effort." Ainsley giggled.

"Nothing could top your rendition of 'Dancing Queen," Sam said, looking at Ainsley.

She shrugged. "It's my signature song."

Bram plopped back down in the armchair. "Is it possible to die from a hangover?"

Lester rested his head in his hands. "No, but it damn well feels like it."

"Breakfast is ready!" Ainsley set out six plates. "I'm placing two Ibuprofen tablets on each plate. Take them with a full glass of water."

"Nurse, chef and the President's counsel," Lester said. "What more could a man ask for?"

Sam grinned. "If only she was a Democrat, then we'd be on to something."

CUT TO:

EXT. PAUL'S CHRISTMAS TREE FARM

"When you said we were going to tag a tree, I thought that was just for cover," Josh said, stepping out of the vehicle.

The two Secret Service agents surveyed the area. When one of them nodded at Bartlet, he and Josh proceeded into a thick row of trees. 

"Nonsense, Josh. We're picking out a tree, then we'll head over to Alistair's shop."

Josh shoved his hands into his pockets and followed the President, who touched almost every tree, then sniffed the pine on his fingers. They were greeted by a short, stout man who looked like he could play the town Santa Claus if only he had a beard.

"Mr. President," the man greeted. "Welcome back."

"Good to see you, Paul." Bartlet shook his hand. "This is Josh Lyman."

"Pleasure to meet you." Josh shook his hand.

"How are Abbey and the girls?"

"They're doing well, but they left their old man in the cold on Thanksgiving." He folded his arms.

"I'm sure the Lab keeps you busy."

"He sure does." Bartlet turned to Josh. "Paul and his wife breed Labrador Retrievers. Maynard was the runt of the litter last year."

Josh raised his eyebrows. "Maynard's only a year old?"

"Eleven months, actually," Paul replied.

"He's huge!"

"And still growing," Paul said.

The President began walking again. "I'm looking for a taller tree this year, Paul."

"There are some 10-12 footers in the back. Let me know if you need anything."

"Will do."

Josh mimicked the President's actions by pulling on the branches of several trees and smelling the pungent pine scent.

"This smell reminds of when Abbey and I started getting serious." Bartlet stopped in front of an Eastern Red Cedar and took a big sniff. "She'd break off a piece of her family's Christmas tree every morning and carry it in her purse."

"Why?"

Bartlet laughed quietly. "She loves the smell of pine."

Josh leaned in and smelled the tree. "It's nice."

"I proposed to Abbey around the holidays." The President proceeded down the row of trees. "It'll be 46 years on December 12."

"Really?" Josh zipped his coat.

"I asked her to come to my house to help decorate the tree that night." He paused in front of a rather large Douglas Fir. "I'd put the ring on one of the branches right at eye-level. The fire was roaring in the fireplace, Christmas music was playing softly in the background and two mugs of hot chocolate with marshmallows were sitting next to a box of ornaments."

Josh watched him attentively.

Bartlet shook the Douglas Fir, then walked around it once. "I was cool as a cucumber on the surface, but underneath, I was nervous as hell." He chuckled. "I remember my palms were sweating. I was worried I'd drop one of my great-grandmother's crystal ornaments."

"Did you?"

He shook his head. "No, but I came awfully close to dropping a mug of hot chocolate."

"How'd you propose?"

"I asked her if she approved of the tree as she stood in front of it, and when she saw the ring, she gasped. Her back was to me, so I got down on one knee. When she turned around with the ring in her hand, I asked her to be my wife." He smiled fondly at the memory.

"That's a great story, Mr. President," Josh said with all sincerity.

"It was a magical night." He took a step back and admired the tree from afar. "So, Josh, any idea how you might propose?"

"Uh..." Josh's eyebrows shot up. "I thought I'd take her to her favorite restaurant or something."

The President whipped around. "That is absolutely NOT what you should do."

"It's not?" Josh squeaked and shifted uncomfortably next to him.

"It's a cliché." He motioned for Paul to join them. "Is Donna the most important person in your life, Josh?"

"Yes," he answered without hesitation.

"And you want to spend the rest of your life with her?"

He smirked. "That's why I'm going to ask her to marry me, sir."

"Then put some thought into how you want to ask such an important question." Bartlet turned to Paul who was making his way toward them. "This one's a beauty, Paul. Let's tag her."

"Yes, sir."

The Secret Service agents led the President back to the SUV.

Josh stood in the middle of the trees for another moment and exhaled slowly. He'd gotten as far as knowing he needed a ring. How he was going to propose wasn't something he'd even remotely considered. As he started making his way back to the vehicle, his cell phone rang.

"Josh Lyman."

"Hey," came the familiar female voice on the other end.

"Donna," he answered as if he'd been caught doing something he wasn't supposed to do. "Hey. We're...uh...picking out a Christmas tree."

"Is there a television nearby?"

Josh grinned. "Unless there's one hidden beneath one of these trees—"

"You need to find one as soon as possible," she interrupted. "Jared Westbrook is giving a statement."

CUT TO:

INT. LOU'S TOWNHOUSE

After breakfast, they'd all pitched in to clean up the remnants of a fun yet incredibly messy evening. Lou refused to count the number of empty bottles around the house, but she was confident it was around 20 of beer, vodka and peppermint schnapps combined.

Sam's cell phone was the first to ring.

"Turn on CNN," Donna said by way of a greeting.

"What's going on?" Sam asked, making his way to the television.

Lou's phone rang next, followed by Lester's, then Bram's.

"Jared Westbrook just retracted his accusations against Congresswoman Dawes," Donna said.

"Are you serious?" He turned on the TV and pumped up the volume.

The gang gathered around the flat screen with their mouths hanging open.

"I sincerely regret the pain I caused Congresswoman Dawes and her family," Westbrook said into the camera. "And I will do whatever is in my power to restore her good name. Thank you."

A cheer erupted in Lou's living room.

"Does Josh know about this?" Sam asked over the noise.

"I just got off the phone with him," Donna said. "You might want to call the President. Josh is...out of network right now."

"Will do. Thanks, Donna."

"Sure," she paused. "Hey, where are you?"

"Lou's house."

"Is she having a party?" Donna asked as the noise in the background continued.

"The party was yesterday. This is the clean-up."

"You went to Lou's Thanksgiving extravaganza?" Surprise registered in her voice.

"Not by choice," Sam began. "Bram and Otto sort of, well, they kidnapped me. But...I'm glad I came."

"I'm glad, too." She smiled. "Call the President."

"I'm on it."

 

CUT TO:

INT. PRESIDENT BARTLET'S SUV/

ALLISTAIR NEWTON JEWELRY

"Never doubt The Man, Josh," Bartlet said, turning off the news radio.

"I'm assuming you're 'The Man?'"

"Don't you forget it," he replied. "I knew Marianne didn't have it in her. It's a shame this kid felt the need to drag her name through the mud after the opportunity she gave him."

Josh nodded. "It is."

"You should've made a right on Fourth Street, Gary," Bartlet told the agent driving the vehicle. "Do you know where you're going?"

Gary looked in the rearview mirror. "Yes, sir. I thought we'd go down Cherry, then hit Bluebonnet."

"That'll be fine," the President answered.

They were silent for the next few minutes, then Bartlet turned his attention back to Josh.

"You know, I'd heard some of the chatter about the two of you in DC when we were in office," the President began. "But I never paid much attention to it."

Josh's eyebrows shot up.

"The only time I really cared was when Leo brought it to my attention."

He whipped his head around. "Leo mentioned me and Donna?"

"Only once," Bartlet replied. "It was after the explosion in Gaza."

Josh grimaced.

"He'd briefed me on the circumstances, and I'd asked why you weren't in the meeting. That's when he told me you were on your way to Germany." The President paused to look at his former deputy.

Josh lowered his head.

"Leo said you'd had a little outburst earlier that day," the President continued. "I wanted to know why the hell you were flying to Germany instead of staffing me. He told me you wouldn't have been very useful in the White House."

Josh glanced at the President, but remained silent.

"Leo put his hands on my desk, leaned forward and said in that serious tone of his, 'Mr. President, you can't reason with a man when the woman he loves is lying in a hospital bed an ocean away.'" He

paused. "I'll never forget the look in his eyes, Josh."

Josh looked away, trying to hide the emotion on his face.

"And that's the only time your relationship with Donna came up."

"He knew?" Josh's voice was laced with emotion.

Bartlet grinned. "I think he knew long before you did."

"Wow," he whispered reverently.

"He'd be so happy for you, son."

Josh smiled softly. "I hope so."

The SUV stopped in front of a small building with a blue and white awning.

"Now," Bartlet patted the younger man's knee. "Let's go see a man about a ring."

An old man in a tweed coat opened the door. "Good day, sir."

"Allistair," the President shook his hand. "It's been too long."

"Entirely too long, sir. Is this the young man you were telling me about?" he asked in a thick British accent.

"I'm Josh Lyman." He stepped forward and shook Allistair's hand.

"My, my Mr. Lyman. You haven't even seen the rings OR the price and already you've got sweaty palms." He and the President chuckled.

Josh swallowed hard. "This is my first time, you know, looking at rings."

"I can assure you, picking out the ring is the easy part." The man put his hand on Josh's shoulder. "When you get down on one knee; that's the difficult part."

Josh's stomach churned.

"Why don't you come in and have a look?" Allistair gestured toward the door.

Because the store wasn't open to the public, the shades were halfway drawn and there were only a few lamps on. There were several glass cases containing various types of jewelry, and a few high end vases and candles displayed along the walls. It was a classy looking store with just the right amount of homeliness.

"I don't have a wide selection of engagement rings, but what I lack in quantity, I make up for in quality." Allistair opened one of the cases and pulled out a velvet shelf lined with eight rings. He turned on a lamp to better show the diamonds' radiance.

"Allistair has won awards for his original designs," Bartlet stated. "In fact, I bought Abbey a platinum and emerald pendant that won the Craftsmanship Award a few years back."

"That piece was one of a kind," Allistair said. "I often make ten or more pieces from the same mold for my pendants, earrings and necklaces, but the one you purchased, sir, I never duplicated."

Bartlet nodded. "He's a master jeweler, Josh."

"I prefer to be thought of as an artist, sir." Allistair grinned. "But I shall take such a compliment from you any day."

"Why don't we take a look at a few of those original pieces, shall we?" Bartlet spun around and walked to another case. "I can get some Christmas shopping out of the way while Josh gawks at the rings and gets weak in the knees."

Allistair smiled as he took in Josh's expression. His mouth hung halfway open and it looked as if he was afraid to even touch the glass case much less a ring.

"I'll be right with you, Mr. President." Allistair turned back to Josh. "Each of these rings was handcrafted using only Hearts on Fire diamonds. Less than one percent of the world's rough diamond

crystals are pure enough to warrant this distinction." Allistair picked up a ring. The diamonds sparkled in the lamp light. "I've brought each diamond to life using 100 times magnification through all stages of production." He handed the ring to Josh, who wiped his sweaty palm on his pants before accepting it. "These rings are ten times the global standard for grading and evaluation. You'd be hard pressed to find a more flawless diamond on the entire East Coast."

Josh couldn't take his eyes off the ring. He tilted it into the light and was mesmerized by how brightly it shined.

"I'm going to leave you alone with this." Allistair pushed the tray toward Josh. "If you have any questions, feel free to ask." He walked toward the President.

"This is a gorgeous necklace, Allistair. Let's take a look," Bartlet said.

Now all alone on the other side of the store, Josh's eyes grew wide as he took in the selection of rings. He swallowed hard when he put the first one down and picked up the second. It felt heavy in his hands. He picked up a third and a fourth, but it wasn't until the fifth when it dawned on him: He was picking out a ring that Donna would wear for the rest of her life. A ring that meant she was connected to him body and soul.

Josh put the ring down and closed his eyes. He leaned over the glass case, hands grasping the silver edge and took a couple of steadying breaths. He wondered if they'd notice if he propped himself up against the wall and practiced the breathing technique Stanley'd shown him years ago.

When he felt his heart rate return close to normal, Josh opened his eyes, stood upright, and pulled Donna's high school ring out of his pocket. For the first time, he noticed that her name was engraved on one side and a flute and a book were engraved on the other. He let out a soft laugh. It was so distinctly Donna.

Josh put the class ring back into his pocket, then focused on the tray in front of him. A ring in the back row caught his eye. It had a large round diamond in the center and was surrounded by smaller diamonds. Two rows of similar diamonds trailed down each side. He picked it up and admired it in the light. He'd never seen a diamond sparkle like this. It reminded him of that morning two days ago when

he'd watched the sun rise on Donna's body, and the smattering of freckles on her chest sparkled like glitter.

A slow smile spread across his face. This was it. He would be proud to present this ring to Donna when he asked her to spend the rest of her life with him.

"Find anything you like, Josh?" Bartlet asked as he stepped next to his former deputy.

"Yes, sir," Josh beamed. "Yes, sir. I have."

FADE TO BLACK


End file.
